The English Lyric 31 



"The curse of hell frae me shall ye bear, 



Mither, mither : 

 "The curse of hell frae me shall ye bear, 



Sic counsels ye gave to me oh." 



The point is driven home relentlessly. There is no mincing 

 matters ; all is simple, direct, merciless ; the steel of the language 

 is naked and cruel. This is the Saxon way, — the way of the old 

 Icelandic sagas, too, and of the Russian prose writers in our 

 own day. 



Let us turn now to the Celtic mode. In ballad literature it 

 appears largely in tales of enchantment and magic. Kemp 

 Owyne and The Tzva Magicians are instances ; but the one comes 

 from Cymric Wales and the other from Gaelic north Scotland. 

 In their ready animation of the inanimate, their lively personifi- 

 cations, their magical transformations, we recognize the ethnic 

 spirit which created them. But in strictly English balladry 

 there are equally good examples. If, as Stopford Brooke con- 

 jectures, The Three Ravens represent the Teutonic eagles of the 

 battle-field, we have in the little lyric-ballad of that name treat- 

 ment of a Saxon theme; but the beauty and delicacy of the poem 

 irresistibly recall the tender allegory and quick rapport with 

 nature of that Highland Lover's Lament earlier quoted, and the 

 lightness of touch, the atmosphere of magic myth, are unmis- 

 takably the Celtic mode. 



There were three ravens sat on a tree, 

 Downe, a downe, hay downe, hay dozutie, 



There were three ravens sat on a tree, 

 With a downe. 



There were three ravens sat on a tree, 



They were as black as they might be, 



With a downe, dcrrie, dcrrie, derrie, downe, downe. 



The one of them said to his mate, 

 "Where shall we our breakfast take?" — 



" Down in yonder green field, 

 There lies a knight slain under his shield. 



" His hounds they lie down at his feet, 

 So well they can their master keep. 



373 



